Expiation
by Gr8BigNerd
Summary: Post Season 4. Wilson and House are both trying to put their friendship back together but neither quite knows how. Meanwhile Cuddy worries what will happen when House remembers why he was in the bar that night to begin with. House/Wilson friendship. Huddy
1. Prologue

**Expiation**

Prologue picks up where Wilson's Heart ends. Wilson and House are both trying to put their friendship back together but neither quite knows how. House/Wilson friendship. Huddy.

Prologue:

_I don't want to be in pain. _

_I don't want to be miserable._

_I don't want him to hate me. _

Those were my thoughts, my dream. I didn't want to wake up; I could have stayed on that bus forever. But I did wake up. Cuddy held my hand for hours in that hospital bed but I couldn't feel her there. All I could feel was Wilson's cold stare from across the room and his back as he walked away. And my leg. Always my leg. There was nothing left for me but to go right back to work.

Within a couple of days I was back in my office, desperately looking for a strange case to occupy my time and mind. Cuddy insisted that I stay in bed; that I let myself heal. What a joke.

Wilson had not been back to the hospital since she died. He was doing the responsible thing and taking some time off. To heal. What he was really doing was learning how insignificant he was in her life now that she was dead. He called her parents who he had met only once and he offered his help with her things, her house, which didn't belong to him. They thanked him through tiered weeping and told him they'd call if they needed anything. He was homeless and alone. And he wouldn't be coming to me this time because though he was happy that I was alive, he could barely stand to look at me without remembering what I did.

Cuddy told me that it was only a matter of time. He would realize that it was not my fault, it was a random accident. She said to give him some space and eventually he would stop being angry. The sad thing is, I know her death wasn't my fault. I am a rational person by nature and Amber's death, while tragic, was not my doing. I don't hate myself now any more than I did a week ago. That's not saying much.

--

_Sorry I'm not home went to get House. 3 A. _

Exactly. She's not home because she went to get House. She's not here in this bed, our bed, because she went to scrape House off the floor of some hole and now she's dead. I wanted her to be angry with him. I wanted her to tell me to stay away from him. That would make it much easier for me to hate him.

Amber was so wrong for me; she wasn't my type at all. Except that she was. She made me a better person. She made me break the cycle of my past relationships and live my life in a way that made it exciting. I was happy. And even more so because House seemed to see in her the same things that I did. He was happy for us in his way.

It could have been so good.

--

_Wake her up. _

_Tell her what she meant to you._

Wilson worried there was something between House and Amber. He needed to know the truth. That woman loved him. House loves him. They didn't tell me what they were planning to do to House to regain his memory. They knew I would never allow it. I only found out after. After House was in a coma and Wilson had his answer. Not the answer he was looking for, but an answer nonetheless. House was not having an affair with Amber. Amber went to get House because she loved Wilson and wanted to help his friend. Though that isn't what Wilson will focus on. He will stare at the fact that Amber never would have been on that bus if not for House.

I can't help him with that now. He needs to grieve. And I need to take care of House. I held his hand until he woke up and I have barely left his side since.

Because I know. It is only a matter of time before House remembers why he was in that bar in the first place.


	2. Chapter 1: Things Remain the Same

**Thanks for the reviews…they are my drug of choice. But this story is only getting started. Stick around and please continue to let me know what you think**.

Chapter 1: Things Remain the Same

"You should go talk to him." Cuddy came around from behind her desk to join Wilson on the loveseat. Wilson shook his head. "You have to talk to him eventually. He is a mess. He thinks you hate him."

At this Wilson did look up. "He does?"

"Yes, he does. This is killing him." Cuddy put her hand over Wilson's. "I know you're hurting. But you can't keep punishing him for her death. You think he wanted this? Trust me, you and Amber were the farthest things from his mind that day."

"That's the whole point. He never thinks of anyone but himself. He never stops to think about…" Wilson dropped his head and pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes, soaking up the tears that had started to form there.

"I know," Cuddy whispered as she moved her hand from his arm to his back and leaned into him. There was a slight tap at her door and then it opened. Cuddy and Wilson straightened up and moved apart. A young intern named Holland appeared awkward at having found his boss and the recently bereaved Dr. Wilson sharing a close moment.

"Um…Dr. Cuddy…sorry, I just needed to—"

"Later." Cuddy said as she stood up and guided the young man out. When she turned around she saw Wilson had stood and was straightening himself out. "Sorry, I thought I locked it…"

"It's fine," Wilson said. "I've got to get to my office anyways, I have to catch up on some things."

"Okay, but please think about what I said."

Wilson nodded. "I will. I don't know what I would say to him."

"Just tell him that you don't blame him and that you need him right now." Wilson looked down again. Cuddy thought for a second he was going to dismiss her but the he simply nodded and walked out of her office.

Around noon Cuddy wrapped up a meeting and went to find House. She hadn't seen him yet today, which she decided was not that unusual. She had been a little clingy since the accident and was beginning to suspect that House was becoming annoyed by her hovering. When she finally found him he was sitting on a picnic table at the jogging park. To her surprise, House looked relieved to see her standing there.

"Thirteen told me he came back to work today." Cuddy nodded as she sat down beside him. "How is he?"

"Hurting. But he's keeping it together, for the most part. What are you doing here?" House didn't answer her, but he stretched his arms over her shoulders and leaned back on the table. "House?"

"I'm just not ready to see him. I can't… I feel like I need to apologize but I don't know what for."

"How about for not calling him, or not being there for him after his girlfriend died in a bus accident." She was getting annoyed with him, though she wasn't sure for what.

"Technically, it wasn't the bus that killed her—"

"House!"

"What? Look, if he really wanted to see me he would have come to me, that's his thing, that's how we work."

"You are such a jerk. Still, after all this, you can't be a real friend to him."

"If I was gonna be a real friend I should have been one before I lured his girlfriend out to her tragic and painful death."

Cuddy shook her head in disbelief. "I really thought at the very least you would have learned some level of empathy or remorse from what happened to Amber—"

"Hey you are the one who told me that this wasn't my fault."

"Her death wasn't your fault, but if you want the truth—"

"I don't."

"Yes. Her being there that night, on that bus, in that accident. That was all your fault. It may not have been malicious it may have not even been your intent that she be there but it is still because of you that she…" Cuddy trailed off. House looked away from her.

"I know." He said.


	3. Chapter 2: An Almost Apology

**Thanks for the reviews...I enjoy each and every one...lets one know peeps are still interested in the story so keep 'um coming. **

Chapter 2: An Almost Apology

Wilson had been staring at the same patient file for three hours. He didn't know what he was doing here; he just knew that he couldn't be at his empty hotel room right now. He couldn't sleep without dreaming about her. Chase and Taulb had been by to check on him, Cameron had come twice, as had Hadley. She had brought him coffee and then offered him a place to stay in her guest house. The similarities between her and Cameron were remarkable; both of them desperate to fix any broken thing or person, both pathetically sincere as House would say. Which made the similarities between the two of them and Amber non-existent. He didn't mind being around either of them, really. It was nice to see people who didn't remind him of Amber. Wilson's phone rang. He ignored it at first but it became more and more persistent.

"Dr. Wilson," he said into the receiver. He listened to the agitated pharmacist relaying some confusion as to who the prescribing physician what to Dr. Wilson's patients. "Yes," he said calmly, "yes, I am aware Dr. Barns has been prescribing my patients medication this last week, I've had to take some personal time… yes, I know normally there would be advance notice of any changes for these types of medications, but my girlfriend…" Wilson felt his voice catch and a sob escaped his lips before he could stop it. Before he knew what was happening he was relaying the whole of events to the hapless pharmacist on the other end. He told him between throaty cries about being on call, and a drunk House calling Amber looking for him and about how she went to pick him up and followed him onto a city bus which was in an accident. Wilson told the guy about the flu pills and the heart failure and her last few hours with him on bypass. In the end the pharmacist apologized for bothering him and asked that he please notify them once Dr. Wilson's patients would be back under his care. Wilson promised that he would and hung up the phone. He stared blankly at the door to his office.

--

House went straight for Cuddy's office once he returned to the hospital. She had left him alone on the park bench to wallow in his self-loathing, and all he really felt, all he had been able to feel since Amber's death, was loneliness.

He was leaning back in the chair next to her door when she walked in. Seeing him, she smiled, relieved that he was back.

"I shouldn't have yelled at you like that, I'm sorry." She said.

"You should have yelled more." House said. "What can I do to make this better?" Cuddy sat down in the love seat next to him. She reached out and grasped his hand in hers. Cuddy was careful not to take too much advantage of his newfound openness with her; she knew he was more than capable of ripping it away at any moment. But she admitted to herself, this freedom to reach out and touch him whenever she felt the urge without fear that he would reject her felt…nice. House brushed his thumb over her knuckles.

"Talking to Wilson would be a good start. From there, who knows. But you need to let him know that you care." She paused and then added, "People need to hear that sometimes." House nodded but didn't say anything. He winced and grasped Cuddy's hand tight.

"What is it?" She asked. "Is you head hurting?" Without missing a beat Cuddy pulled her exam pen from her pocket and clicked the light on. But House brushed her away.

"No, it's just my leg." He pushed down on his thigh and started to massage the muscle there.

"Let me have a look anyway," Cuddy pulled his face toward her and tracked the light across. "Follow the light with your eyes."

House rolled his eyes but did as he was told. He became suddenly aware of how close her lips were to his and it left him unsettled. He felt himself repress a familiar urge to tangle his fingers through her dark hair and pull her into a kiss. Though he couldn't pin point why, he was somewhat confident that if he was to act on that impulse now she would probably allow it, maybe even encourage it. Best not to chance it though, he decided.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Uh huh," Cuddy answered as she clicked her light off, satisfied that he was okay for the moment.

"I left the hospital at around six that night. I lost four hours, right?" Cuddy nodded. "But I only remember the last two. Do you think it's possible that I went somewhere else before I ended up in that bar?"

Cuddy leaned back in her seat. "Have you remembered anything else?" She asked him cautiously.

"No. And that is strange because short term memory loss after a head trauma like this is temporary. I should be clear by now everything that happened to me that night. I wasn't drunk before I went into the bar so those first two hours wouldn't be lost in a drunken haze."

"You had a major colonic event, House. Your brain was damaged in the accident and then again during electro-therapy. I'm not a neurologist but I am not at all surprised that you are still having some memory loss. "

House frowned. "Maybe I need to go talk to a neurologist." Cuddy shook her head, stood up and walked back over to her desk.

"You need to take it easy is what you need to do. " She said. Than before she saw him, the door to her office swung open and Wilson charged into her office.

"Cuddy, I need to get out of here…" Cuddy looked from House to Wilson and back again before Wilson turned and saw House sitting behind him. Wilson turned back to Cuddy. "You really need to start locking that door," he said.

"I know. We were just—"

House stood up behind Wilson. "Cuddy thought I had a headache and was about to have me strapped to a bed so I wouldn't have an aneurism. False alarm though."

Wilson turned slightly, but moved away from House. "So you're feeling better?"

"Aside from the usual debilitating pain in my leg, I'm peachy." House said. "Listen, I—"

Wilson cut him off. "I'm glad to hear it." He turned back to Cuddy. "I'm gonna leave. I'll be back in tomorrow. "

"I told you to take as much time as you need—"

House cut her off, as he moved around to face Wilson. "No you should come back tomorrow. You need to be here. Get things back to normal."

"House—" Cuddy snapped at him, but he interrupted her again.

"Yes, see, we all take some time to be sad, to mourn and to be very sorry for anything we might have done, or not done to precipitate the events surrounding her…" House trailed off. "And we just have to get back to our lives."

Wilson stared at House blankly. "That almost sounded like an apology."

"Do you want to have dinner or something tomorrow?" House asked him. He was grasping at straws and he knew it. He didn't even try to hide the desperation in his voice. Wilson looked back over at Cuddy who had been watching them, and she silently pleased with Wilson to say yes.

He nodded. "Yeah, fine. I guess we can do that." House smiled "But," Wilson said before turning around and leaving the office, "don't get your hopes up okay. I still might need some time." He swung the door behind him and it slammed a little more than he had intended.

House looked over at Cuddy. "I think that went pretty good:" he said.


	4. Chapter 3: This isn't a fantasy

**Here is a new chapter...I hope you enjoy!**

Chapter 3: This isn't a fantasy 

_House don't. _

_Why? Cuddy it doesn't have to be like before. _

_No. This isn't real House. It's too messy now. We're not…we just can't okay. _

_There was a time when you wouldn't have said no to me. _

_And look where it got me. _

_What we had wasn't so bad. It could be even better now. No one knows you like me. Because no one sticks around long enough to try and break through your ice wall. If they did then they would know that this…all of this is nothing but a smokescreen. You don't know how to say yes, and finally let yourself be happy so you—_

_You're one to lecture me about being unhappy…you are the most miserable person I know. What do you know about making yourself happy?_

_That 's what I'm trying to do. Now come here… _

House woke suddenly and found himself alone in his bed. He blinked. There was still the semblance of sensation where his lips had pressed down on Cuddy's in his dream. His neck felt heavy with her arms wrapped around him. And his chest was constricted. Lately she was with him constantly. In his mind, in his dreams. Despite how taxing the last week had been on him, both physically and emotionally, Cuddy was the one who was holding things together for everyone. House thought, before the accident, he felt like something might be happening between them. They were reconnecting somehow. He knew now was not the time to ask her, but he wondered how long he would have to punish himself for Amber's death before he could start to try and fix his own life.

**OOOOOOOO**

Wilson was a gun ready to go off. Cuddy worried now whether or not she had pushed them too hard. She worried that rushing things back to normal was not going to make things better for anyone. Except maybe for House. If House had his way he would never mention the accident or Amber ever again, and neither would anyone else. Cuddy pulled at a rubber band between her fingers.

She vaguely recalled having some administrative things to do…dean of medicine, that's right. House and Wilson were occupying her mind seemingly night and day. And Amber. Cuddy shook her head; she wasn't going to let herself go there.

House stumbled into her office around eleven that morning and dropped into a chair in front of her desk.

"I'm kind of busy, House. I've gotten behind on so much—"

"Where should I take him?"

"Huh?"

"Wilson. We are having dinner tonight, and I'm not sure where we should go. Someplace not to quiet, but nothing obnoxious either. I don't want to be insensitive."

"Why don't you just have him over to your place? Or his…where is he staying?"

"I don't know actually. Probably back at the hotel. He hasn't told you?"

"No," Cuddy said sadly. "He isn't really confiding in me too much these days. I think he partially blames me…"

House rolled his eyes. "For what? Warming her up? He knows that made no difference. God, Cuddy. You have to get that guilt under control. Leave the self-pity to those of us who really are to blame."

Cuddy looked at him sympathetically. "House…"

"Just, nevermind." House waived her off, and glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone would be barging in on them anytime soon. He bounced his cane on her floor in a rhythmic series of taps. "I had a dream about you last night," he said.

"About me? What kind of dream? Or do I even want to know?"

"We were in your office. We were arguing, and then we were kissing." House wasn't really looking at her as he recalled his dream. He was basking in it instead.

Cuddy glanced up at him. Her cheeks flushed. "Nope, I don't want to know."

House brought his attention back to her. "You really don't know where Wilson is staying?"

**OOOOOOOO**

**A shorty I know...will have another chapter up soon...but reviews do make me write faster :-)**


	5. Chapter 4: The End of Bromance

**Horribly sorry I have not updated in a while...but I've got a breather and ready to tell the rest of this story...Pretty please R&R.**

Chapter 4: The End of Bromance

House had taken Cuddy's advice and invited a reluctant Wilson to come to his place for pizza and beer and Casablanca. The two sat across from each other saying little. House sipped on a diet coke while Wilson stared aimlessly at his slice of pepperoni lovers and tossed back one beer after another until he had a respectable collection of empty brown bottles covering the counter in front of him.

"Cuddy told me you were at the funeral," Wilson finally said. He looked up at House. "You didn't tell me you were going."

"I didn't go for you." House said. Wilson looked hurt, and House shook his head. "I didn't tell anyone I was going except for Cuddy. I needed her to drive me there." House paused and took a beer from in front of Wilson and opened it. He couldn't handle for another second the space between them, filled with Wilson's anger and grief, and House's guilt. He figured the best thing he could do was to get it right out in the open and pick a fight with Wilson. "I thought maybe it was poor taste for the guy who killed her to show up at the funeral and start chatting up the bereaved."

Wilson looked up. "Don't do that," he said.

"What? That's what you think right?"

"You didn't kill her House."

"No. But I certainly didn't prevent her death, did I?" House stepped from the kitchen stool, grabbed his cane from the corner and headed into the living room.

Wilson appeared behind him a few moments later. "Why are you doing this?

"Because, I can't handle you looking at me like that anymore." House waved his hand at Wilson's face. "I'm sorry she's gone but you are just being selfish by dragging this out."

Wilson's jaw dropped. "My girlfriend just died, and you are concerned about how my grief is affecting you, but _I'm_ being selfish?"

"Once the shock of a death wears off, you're not morning for that person's life anymore; you're grieving over what you don't have. That is selfish."

"You're unbelievable," Wilson said.

"I am who I am."

"What do you want from me?" Wilson was nearly shouting now.

"I want you to forgive me." House limped over to Wilson until they were separated by only House's coffee table. Wilson dropped his hands to his side and shook his head.

"There's nothing to forgive House. I can't hate you for being you and doing what you do. I just…"

House's eyes softened. "Miss her?"

Wilson looked up at him; his heart felt tight in his chest. "Yes."

**OOOOOOOOOO**

The next morning House waited in Cuddy's office for her to finish her rounds. Wilson left shortly after their argument, saying that everything was fine between them, but he had a headache and needed to rest. House offered him a ride home but Wilson declined and took a cab.

Cuddy returned a few minuets later, not particularly surprised to see House waiting for her there.

"Morning House," she said. House grunted in response and Cuddy walked over to her desk and dropped some files down. She then pulled a pen light out of her jacket pocket, walked over to House and clicked it on. House pulled away.

"I didn't come for a check-up," he said. Cuddy grabbed his chin and pulled his eyes back over to her.

"Tell me what you need to tell me while I take a look at your pupils." She shined the light into his eyes and tracked it across. House followed her instructions without further resistance.

"How was your date last night?" Cuddy asked.

"Well it started off good but then he started to get fresh when he dropped me off…" House joked with her as she ran a finger over his cranial ridge.

Cuddy smirked. "Seriously," she said, "How is he doing?"

"The seventh love of his life just died. He's devastated." Cuddy nodded. She stepped back and dropped the light back into her packet and then took a seat next to House on her couch.

"And the two of you? Is he still upset?"

House shrugged. "Actually he let me off the hook."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean he said that he wouldn't hold me responsible for acting like me," House said, "which means, he holds himself responsible for associating with me."

Cuddy reached over and put her hand on his arm. "You just need to give it some time," she said. House nodded without reply and after an awkward moment Cuddy stood up and walked back over to her desk.

"If you're up for it, I've a case."


	6. Chapter 5: We Are Broken

Chapter 5: We Are Broken

After leaving Cuddy, House tucked the patient file under his arm and went up to his own office. To his surprise it was empty and his team was nowhere to be found. He sent out a page and a few minuets later Forman, Kutner, and Taulb filed in through the door. House tossed the file down on the table and stared at the door agitated. The other three leaned in and read over the patient's admittance forms and blood tests.

House looked at his watch and back at the door. "Where's 13?"

"She wasn't with us earlier, I'm not sure." Kutner said.

"Says that the patient works in an office. Sitting long hours at a desk could cause a DVT. DVT could lead to—"

"What are you doing?" House asked Taulb who looked at him confused.

"I thought we where diagnosing that patient."

"Not until the whole team is here." House turned and walked out of the office. He checked the lab, the clinic, and the woman's locker room until he finally found Hadley in the cafeteria seated at a table with Cameron, Chase and, much to House's dismay, Wilson. House leaned heavy on his cane for a moment before deciding to go over.

House stood behind Wilson and called over to Hadley. "You don't answer your pager anymore?" The four of them turned and looked at House then back at Wilson. House stepped over to the table. He said a muted hello to Wilson who responded with a nod and mumbled something about getting back to his office.

"I was busy," Hadley said to House, "What is so important?"

"We've got a case."

"I would have come up when I was done, you didn't need to come all the way down here." Hadley said as she pushed herself up from the table.

"Of course I did," House said. "We value your input." Chase and Cameron exchanged a glance.

"How are you?" Chase asked House.

House nodded. "Fine. All better." He turned to Hadley. "Let's go."

The two of them stepped into the elevator and it shut behind them.

"Since when are you and Wilson so chummy?" House asked her.

"I was just checking on him. This is a hard thing to go through and—"

"You did a genetic screen on yourself." House said cutting her off mid sentence. Hadley stared at him. "Cuddy has all blood tests done in the lab monitored. Was it positive?" Hadley blinked, recovering from House's ambush. She moved her mouth to answer but nothing came out. "I'll take that as a yes." House tapped his cane on the floor of the elevator. "It's manageable."

"House this is private. _If_ I get sick, I will deal with it, but I don't want you to interfere and I…I really hope you will keep this information to yourself." House stared at her a second and nodded.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Hadley asked suspiciously. He nodded again and motioned toward the elevator doors which had opened on their floor. "Come on, we got a patient."

**OOOOOOOO**

The sick person turned out to be a thirty-two year old white female who had collapsed in a restaurant in front of her nine year-old daughter. No heart attack, no seizure, nothing that would explain the sudden loss of consciousness and subsequent tachycardia. Then once she had been admitted to the hospital she tried to stab her daughter with a plastic spork, screaming that the girl had tried to poison her. Then she started praying in African tribal languages.

"Re-draw her blood and run a tox-screen. Check the home for household chemicals, metals, anything that could be used as a makeshift poison." House said as he stared at a whiteboard full of symptoms ranging from increased blood pressure to delusion and violent outbursts.

"You actually believe that kid poisoned her mother?" Kutner asked.

"Yeah, that woman is clearly delirious." Hadley agreed. "Why would you want to waste our time with that when it could be a hundred other more likely causes?"

House kept his eyes on the white board. Clearly she was right; he wouldn't usually pursue the my-evil-minion-daughter-is-trying-to-kill-me route until he had first ruled out the actual medical causes. But he couldn't think of any. It was the speaking in foreign tongues that was throwing him he was sure.

"If she was given something that caused the collapse and delusions that would explain everything. Go." The four of them gave each other confused looks but filed out of the office just the same. House leaned on his cane and glanced after them. Once they had disappeared into the elevator House grabbed the file and headed for Cuddy's office.

**OOOOOOOO**

"Why did you give me this case?" House asked as he barged in on a meeting between Cuddy and the head nurses.

"I…thought you'd find it interesting. Can this wait?"

"Got a theory about what happened to her?"

"Not really—"

"Come on just throw something out there," House urged her. Cuddy excused the nurses when it became apparent to her that House wasn't going to leave. And House once again asked her what she thought happened to the woman.

"I don't know House, a brain aneurism complicated by—"

"So you went straight for the medical stuff too. Interesting."

"Am I wrong?"

"Completely. There was no evidence of brain aneurism on her CT. Have you noticed anything unusual around my occipital lobe on any of the tests you've run on me?"

"No, we've mostly been concerned about your temporal lobe, because of the memory loss. Why? Are you having any other symptoms?"

House shook his head. "Forget it." He turned to leave but cuddy grabbed his arm.

"If you are experiencing any other effects from the deep brain stimulation, you need to tell me House."

House nodded. He pulled his arm away from her slipping his hand down to grasp hers. "You look really nice with your hair up like that." He squeezed her hand and then let go and disappeared through her office door, swinging it closed behind him. Cuddy's heart caught in her throat at the complement but only for the briefest second. In the next moment she picked up the phone and called down to the imaging department.

"This is Dr. Cuddy. I need you to send up all of the images we took of Dr. House's brain in the last month. Particularly those that focus on his occipital. No, right now." Cuddy hung up the phone and headed down to the lab.


	7. Chapter 6: The corner puzzle piece

**Thanks to all who have reviewed...and those asking for more Huddy-licious stuff should stick around...you are not to be disappointed. **

Chapter 6: The corner puzzle piece

_You'll never solve this. _

_What?_

_You had a gift but you lost it. You were reckless and it cost you. _

_I'll figure it out eventually; I always do._

_Not this time. _

_Why?_

_Because….this is the wrong case._

House sat up in bed startled. He was beginning to get sick of these cryptic ass dreams dropping clues and creeping him out. This time it was 13.

House threw the covers off and lifted his leg over the side of the bed. He missed the old days when he would find his answers by mocking and manipulating those around him until they said or did something that gave him a magical realization. Or a lucky guess.

He limped into the bathroom and peed, then grabbed his cane and headed for the kitchen. He wasn't too surprised to see Cuddy curled up on his couch. She usually popped up every few days there, having come to check on him in the middle of the night and then stay. He rubbed her shoulder until she turned over and opened her eyes, and he dropped down beside her.

"These late night visits would be much more fulfilling if you would just cut to the quip, take off your clothes and crawl into bed with me." She smiled.

"I couldn't sleep."

"All the more reason—"

Cuddy sat up and pushed her hair back off her shoulders. "How's your case coming?"

House rolled his eyes and stood up, heading for the kitchen. "No evidence of toxic exposure, nothing significant in the home. Cleaners, paints, aspirin…I'm starting to think that maybe it wasn't poison."

"Starting to think?" Cuddy had followed House into the kitchen. She was wearing one of his crumpled pink dress shirts and short black shorts. House smiled at the sight of her. The comfort with which she let herself into his home, came into his room and borrowed his clothes. Almost like a girlfriend. "Have you looked into any medical causes at all?" She asked him.

House shrugged. "I'm sure my team has cleverly decided to go behind my back and run a battery of useless tests to check for everything that it obviously isn't."

"But you don't have any theories?"

"She wasn't having a hallucination. She was speaking coherently in a language that she doesn't know right after she tried to spork her kid to death—"

"She could have heard that language anywhere House, in a movie or from an acquaintance. Psychosis, loss of consciousness, and vomiting blood are _medical _symptoms. You need to start there." She paused and thought for a second. "Kushings?"

"Yes, very good. Ignore the symptoms we can't explain and focus on the easiest, most wrong answer we can find."

Cuddy shook her head. "I've got to get to the hospital."

"Quitter."

"I have yet to hear you offer an even halfway brilliant idea."

"I'm pacing myself."

Cuddy disappeared into House's bedroom and reemerged a few minuets later fully clothed. She grabbed her keys off an end table. "Talked to Wilson lately?"

"Everyday," House said. "I'm sure any day now he'll start to talk back."

Cuddy pressed her lips together. "House—"

"It's fine." House sat down at his piano and tapped at the keys. "I get that he needs some space. I think the only thing that would get us back to normal is if I changed. Once I figure out how to not be me, I won't remind of him of myself or what I did…"

"Change what House?" Cuddy dropped her keys back on the table and walked over to the piano.

He shrugged. "Amber's death was the end result of unfortunate events, all triggered by my need to self-destruct. Maybe I need to start caring for other people or stop drinking or find a better way to deal with pain or…"

"I agree with all of those things." Cuddy sat down beside him. "But you are not a bad person House. And, at least that night, you were not self destructing."

House tapped at the piano a few more times and then stopped his finger frozen above a key and he turned to face Cuddy who was staring at the ground. He narrowed his eyes.

"What do you mean 'that night'?" She didn't answer. "What do you know Cuddy?"


	8. Chapter 7: Action and Reaction

**Yet again thanks so much for the reviews…they really make me want to finish this story. Okay so here it the thing…this chapter is what one might call a "climax" in the story. It borders on needing an M rating. Not too bad (not enough to make me change the rating for the whole story) but enough for a warning. Consider yourself warned.**

Chapter 7: Action and Reaction

"Tell me what you know about that day Cuddy."

Cuddy took a deep breath. She didn't want to carry this anymore. More than that, she didn't want House to continue to believe the worst about himself. "I know what happened that afternoon. I know why you were in the bar, I know why you were drunk, and I know why you had to call Amber to come and get you."

He stared at her in disbelief that she had kept the events of that night from him. Briefly he wondered if he really wanted to know. In the past when she kept secrets or conspired against him she always believed she was doing it for his own good. "Why?"

"The week before, after that case with the happy guy, remember?" House nodded. "You wrote that stupid performance review about me. It was strange. I know you were just messing with my head, but…some of what you said…it just really bothered me. Then the day of the accident, the day after you solved that case with the soap opera guy, you came to my office and called me out on why I was acting so insane around you. You said that I was avoiding you because you were right about me, and because it proved that I was still wanted you…that whatever came between us a long time ago, now we had become right for each other. " Cuddy stood up and walked back into the kitchen, attempting to put some distance between them. She didn't have much luck; however, House followed shortly behind her.

"And then what?"

"And then, you tried to kiss me. I pushed you away and we started fighting."

"I went to the bar brooding because you didn't want to kiss me?" House rolled his eyes. "If I got drunk every time you and I had an argument—"

"No that wasn't it." Cuddy tapped her fingers on his counter top.

"So what was it?" Cuddy didn't look at him, which prompted him to step closer to her. He couldn't decide whether to hold her or shake her senseless. "Cuddy?" He put his hand over hers and some tears sprang into the corners of her eyes, which she immediately brushed away.

"We were arguing and I got upset, and started to walk out on you—"

_Nothing's changed House. You only want me because you can't have me. The second I give into you you'll loose interest. _

_You're wrong. You're so beautiful, but you're so wrong._

_This isn't going to happen. You need to stay away from me._

_No. I'm not going to let you walk out on me this time._

House blinked and shook his head. "I remember," he whispered.

"I'm so sorry, House."

"I pushed you against the wall and kissed you." Cuddy looked away from him but House touched her chin and brought her eyes back to meet his. "You kissed me back."

___We shouldn't be doing this here._

___I thought you were going to say we shouldn't be doing this at all. I guess that's something. _

___I don't know if I want to go down this road with you again._

___You do._

___House…_

___Shut up._

___No. Not here. Not like this._

"I told you to meet me in half an hour at Sherries Bar on 3rd. I told you we could talk there."

"But you never showed."

"No."

"You stood me up."

"I got scared."

"Cuddy…" House took hold of her arm and pulled her to him. She put her head on his chest and he stroked her hair. "It wasn't your fault anymore than it was mine. You can't feel guilty about this."

Cuddy looked up at him and placed a hand on each side of his face. "You still feel guilty. That's what I am trying to tell you. You were involved, but it wasn't because you are self-destructive, or an ass, or anything else. It was an accident. It wasn't your fault."

House started to agree with her but stopped himself when he realized what she had said. He smiled weakly down at her and pulled her into a kiss. Cuddy slid her arms around his neck and the two clung to one another. When he finally released her lips he buried his face in her neck.

"Thank you."

"I didn't want to hurt you House. I wanted you so bad; I was scared to give you that kind of power over me."

"I don't want to hurt you either."

House kissed her again, though this time she did not pull away. She didn't resist him, she didn't back away from him. She encouraged this. They pulled at buttons and fabric. They explored each others mouths and bodies. Familiar territory, and yet different somehow. Bodies softened with age but as responsive to an old lover as experience and years of suppression will bring. Greedy hands reaching at places hey had been denied for far too long. House lifted Cuddy onto the kitchen counter and pushed her skirt up her legs. His hands found the center of her thighs and the small patch of hair there. She shivered and gasped as his fingers massaged there way to her core. She reached out for him and found the band of his pajama pants and pulled them down just enough to release him from his confines there. She pulled him into her and the two clung together moving in sync with one another. House pulled her from the counter and down onto the floor where they shivered, groaned and dealt the final blow to any sense of separation between them.

An hour later Cuddy had gotten up to make some coffee, and pulled a throw off the back of House's couch. And there they sat on his kitchen floor under a blanked sipping coffee and blushing. House smiled at her and pushed some hair from her eyes.

"You are one hell of a mess post-coitus."

Cuddy's jaw dropped and she pulled the blanket up to her nose, "You're such an ass." He laughed and pulled the blanket down to kiss her. "It is good to see you smile" She said.

"How could I not," he said. He slipped his hands into hers. "Cuddy?"

"hmm?"

"Does Wilson know about what happened that night? With us I mean."

Cuddy shook her head, no. "Placing blame didn't seem relevant at the time. But Wilson is angry with you for something that isn't real. I'm going to tell him today."

"Don't tell him."

"You were at that bar because I sent you there, and you were hurt because you thought I rejected you. If he knew—"

"You're right, it is irrelevant. The fact is that I may have been waiting for you that night, but how many other times have I called Wilson to scrape me up off the floor and he came? The only difference is that this time it really cost."

"House…" Cuddy slipped her hand up to his arm and squeezed, hoping to reassure him. His smile was weakened and he reached out to brush his fingers over her cheek.

"Cuddy, I don't want to be this guy anymore."


	9. Chapter 8: The More things Change

**Thank you to those who have stuck with this story...Every review is like a hug from Santa Clause. The story is now fully written. There will be two more chapters after this one...and what I hope will be an interesting twist on getting House and Wilson back on good terms. But until then, enjoy this bit of Huddy squish...**

Chapter 8: The More Things Change

Change is never easy. For some it is near impossible. For other's, like House, change was more of an abstract concept than anything. Change is not tangible, you can rarely see it, and in most cases it is born of the need to please another person and therefore predisposed to failure. House's team eventually solved the case of the lunatic woman who tried to stab her daughter. They determined that it was indeed poison; though the daughter was not the culprit. The woman had Multiple Personality Disorder. A fourteen year old Senegalese boy who identified himself as the daughter's half- sibling had emerged in front of Taulb and admitted to having drunk a bottle of toilet bowl cleaner as he was trying to get his sister in trouble. The seizure was the mother's body's way of restraining the boy and protecting her daughter. The language the woman came into the ER speaking was the boy's native tongue. The woman and her alter-ego possessed a separate subconscious and separate physical reactions to one another. Everything was explained.

And, yet no one was more surprised than House that the answer turned out to be poisoning. He was worried that the damage to his brain extended beyond a little short term memory loss. It was as if his deductive reasoning, that which made him be able to do what he did, was no longer working. Cuddy had taken another look at House's brain scans when he first expressed concern. She also did another blood test and talked to a neurologist friend of hers from outside the hospital, all without revealing House's name.

Three weeks after the two of them had made love on House's kitchen floor and House had admitted to her that he was tired of the angry caustic asshole everyone had come to see him as; the change he said he wanted surfaced only in short bursts. Cuddy saw little things in him. He brought her a rose and set it on her desk one morning. He had not taken a cheap shot at the pharmacist who had screwed up his pain meds. He congratulated his team when they solved the case. He still hated working in the clinic and his sarcasm muscle was as strong as ever, though Cuddy decided that there were some things she wouldn't ever want him to change.

Lately House had started buzzing around her office by seven in the evening badgering her to get her things and let him take her home. But tonight when eleven rolled around and she still had not seen him, she went looking. House sat alone in his dimly lit office tapping his ball against his forehead when Cuddy found him.

"Working hard, or hardly working?"

House looked up at her and smiled. "You know, sometimes I forget how gorgeous you are. And then, you'll appear out of nowhere and it really does shock me a little."

Cuddy returned his smile. She felt a thrill like a little kid gets when he said things like this to her. Though she was still getting used to the feeling and did not know quite how to react. So she changed the subject.

"What are you doing?"

"Thinking."

"You haven't taken a case in over two weeks. I've sent you half a dozen at least. What's up?" She stepped closer to him and rested a free hand on the edge of his desk. House glanced over at the file folder tucked under her arm.

"Is that another one?" He leaned into her.

"No," she said. She dropped the file on the desk in front of him. "That's my patient."

House flipped opened the file which he quickly recognized as his own. He glanced up at her. "I didn't ask you to look into this."

"I know that. I was worried about you." She pulled an MRI from the file and clipped it onto House's light-board. "There's something on here I want you to see."

House stood up and stepped in front of the board beside her. "You think I'm brain damaged? You think I'm not going to be able to work my cases anymore don't you?"

Cuddy stared at him. "No. Reading MRi's is not an exact science, but from what I've been told, this," Cuddy pointed to a light area near his occipital, "is a legion. Scar tissue. It is completely benign and will heal fully if you just give it some time."

House leaned in a little closer. He hadn't spotted that when he had looked at these same images two weeks ago. He looked down at Cuddy. "From what you've been told by who?"

"What?"

"Who have you been talking to about my medical records?"

Cuddy straightened up and went on the defensive. Of course she knew he would get angry before he started listening to her. "I got a consult."

House shook his head and dropped his hands hard on the table. "Damn it Cuddy. You shouldn't have done that. Now everyone in this hospital is going to know that something is wrong with me." The two stared at one another for a moment. "What else did Foreman say, besides it will be all better soon?"

"I didn't ask Foreman; I went outside the hospital." House's eyes widened further as the possibility that the entire medical community throughout Jersey or beyond now knew. "I thought it would be best to consult a friend of mine who was not familiar with the circumstances surrounding your accident. I kept it anonymous. Do you think that, if something was wrong, I would want people knowing that my best diagnostician had brain damage?"

House dropped his eyes. No he knew better; she was smarter than that. "Well your neurologist friend is a moron." Cuddy frowned, but House went on. "There is something wrong with me. I didn't even notice that legion on my MRI. My brain is not processing like it's supposed to."

"This is in your head House. Take another case and try again. It will come back; you just have to let it." Cuddy stepped around the desk so that she was in front of House and brushed her thumbs across his cheeks and lips. "Take another case, in the morning. Right now take me home." House took in a breath and leaned down so that his forehead rested on her stomach. His hands found the back of her calves and moved up to the brim of her skirt. He fingered the material there and then inched his fingers up to the back of her thighs and ass. Cuddy nervously looked through his glass office door into the empty hallway.

"House, not here," she warned.

"Yes," House said and leaned back in his chair, "right here." He pulled her into a kiss, sliding his tongue between her lips and twisting his fingers through her brown curls. Cuddy pulled back slightly and House moved her skirt up over her hips as she straddled his thighs. She moved her hand over his belt buckle and then stopped and looked him in the eye.

"Promise me you'll take a case in the morning."


	10. Chapter 9: A Stake in This

**This story is nearing its end...It has been a very fun one to write...final chapter (Or two...I'm thinking the ending I gave it may need to be expanded) should be up soon...in the mean time please let me know what you think.**

Chapter 9: A Stake in This 

House shivered as he walked past the clinic and saw Cuddy through her glass office doors. She was seated behind her desk schmoozing a couple of well-to-do donors. She pushed her curly chocolate hair over her shoulders revealing her long neckline and sculpted shoulders. House saw the man seated across the desk twitch slightly. How could he not be affected by her?

House chuckled to himself remembering the previous night. The way she teased him until he swore that he would take a patient. He resisted for about two seconds, but once she had him didn't let her forget it. There was something viral about screwing the dean of medicine on your desk where anyone could happen by. They didn't try to conceal it either; didn't close the blinds, didn't go down behind the desk. It wasn't until they heard a janitor slam the office door next to them that they finally jumped apart and rearranged themselves. That woman sure had a way with making him forget self-pity.

Never one to break promises, (especially if last night was any clue as to his reward for keeping them) House went in search of a medical mystery. It occurred to him on his drive home last night that perhaps Cuddy was right. It was not unheard of for House's body to manifest mental pain in physical ways. In this case mental pain causing a mental symptom…but one that could be all in his head just the same…so to speak. He found himself heading for Wilson's office. Because when you are looking for a case that is unexplainable you immediately think cancer. He knocked on Wilson's door; he never barged in anymore. After a few knocks he heard Wilson mumble for him to come in.

Wilson looked up from a patient file and greeted House with a nod then looked back down at his papers.

"I need a case." House said, and then walked over to Wilson's couch and flopped down. Wilson looked up briefly again and closed his file. House rolled his eyes, "Well not that one."

"What do you want House?"

"I just told you—"

"I mean from me. I don't have any undiagnosed patients. Go ask Cuddy."

"Cuddy told me to ask you," House lied.

"Why would she…" Wilson waved an absent hand in front of his face, "Nevermind. I don't have anything for you."

"Okay," House said. He tapped his cane on the floor between his legs while Wilson waited for him to leave. "How are you?" House awkwardly asked Wilson.

"Um...I'm fine." This had been Wilson's standard automated response to nearly everyone who inquired about him since the accident.

"Yeah. You are moping around here like someone kicked your puppy, you haven't looked me in the eye in three weeks, and…and that tie has days old stains on it. But no, you're fine." House tapped his cane on the ground again and Wilson looked down at his tie. "Made ya look," House said flatly.

Wilson frowned but his face softened slightly. "No… I mean I'm not great, but I am doing fine. Better." Wilson looked over at House who was no longer looking at him but down at the floor between his legs. "I was just surprised that you asked that's all."

"You're surprised that I take an interest in my best fr—in your well being?"

"Well…yeah. You never have before."

House nodded in acknowledgment that no, he never really did show that he cared. "Some things are different with me now," he said.

At this Wilson did look him in the eye. "Because of Amber?"

House nodded slowly. There was so much that he wanted to tell his friend; so much that had happened. "Partly, yes." He answered as honestly as he could. Wilson shook his head. "Do you still think about her?" House asked.

"Everyday."

"I don't get it. You deal with death all the time. Your patients die on you left and right. You even dated that cancer woman…I'm sure she's dead by now. I mean I know you loved Amber, but—"

Wilson cut him off. "No you don't get it. I was _in_ love with her. But instead of getting to explore that it was yanked away from us. And now I can't even grieve right because _you_ told me I was being selfish by missing her and it's true. I hate that _I_ have to feel like this, that _I_ don't have her anymore, and that _I_ lost more than just a girlfriend…" Wilson trailed of. His eyes had gotten frantic and he stared at House who was now looking at the floor again.

Before House could say anything there was a light tap at the door, and the intruder didn't wait to be invited in, but pushed the door open and peaked her head inside. Hadley smiled at Wilson before she noticed House in the room, but once she saw him, looked slightly embarrassed.

"Sorry," she said. And then to House, "I was looking for you. Cuddy said we might have a case."

House nodded. "Yeah we will, once you and the other ugly ducklings go down to the ER and scrounge one up." She blinked at him without moving for a second then nodded and left without another word. House noticed Wilson staring after her and eyed him suspiciously. "She's bi-sexual, you know."

"Tell me about it," Wilson said, "She had a girl friend over the other night, and all I could think about was whether or not they were downstairs making out."

House was distracted by the mental image of Thirteen making out with another girl for only a moment before… "She had a friend over where?"


	11. Chapter 10: Redemption

**This is the final chapter (so so so sorry it took me so long to post). What did you think of my fluffy little take on the end of last season? **

Chapter 10: Redemption

Wilson realized his slip as soon as it came out of his mouth.

"Answer me," House had risen from the couch and stalked over to Wilson's desk. Wilson shook his head.

"It's not what you think. She has a guest apartment attached to her house. I started renting it from her a few weeks ago."

"Seriously Wilson, you need to hire a team of your own and stop dipping your nib into mine." Wilson shook his head and walked around to his office door.

"First of all, I'm not dating her. I do care for her. During a time in my life when I've needed a real friend she has been here. But that is as far as it goes. Second, if I were seeing her, or interested in seeing her it would be none of your damn business." Wilson flung the door open and left House standing alone in his office.

OOOOOOOO

By the time House made it back to his own office his team was assembled and sporting bored expressions. All except Hadley who looked as if she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"You," House said pointing his cane at her. "Get in here." He moved past a confused Kutner and swung the door to his office closed behind him. A few moments later Hadley quietly slipped inside and closed the door behind her.

"I don't care why you felt compelled to move Wilson in with you, I don't want to know what is going on in that confused little idiot brain of yours, but considering what he has recently been through and considering what you recently discovered about your own bleak future, I hope that you will have the commonsense to back off."

Thirteen stared at her boss a moment and took in his accusation. His suggestion that she had moved in on Wilson after Amber had died and the realization that if she had she would be subjecting him to the loss of yet another lover to a horribly painful death. And then she began laughing hysterically.

House rolled his eyes. "What's so funny?"

Hadley choked down another burst of laughter and caught her breath. "You are. It's funny that you are still trying to control him. Even after—"

"Hey, I didn't ask your opinion on what I do or don't have the right to control where Wilson is concerned. But I am assuming from your reaction to my knowing your test results that you haven't told him. You think it would make it easier to handle if he fell in love with you first? Funny, you don't seem like the heartless type." House winced as a shooting pain reverberated through his leg and he limped over to his desk and sat down. When he looked back up he saw a spot of blood above Hadley's upper lip. "you're bleeding," he said.

Hadley frowned and touched her thumb to her nose and more blood trickled down her palm. She closed her eyes and caught herself on the edge of his desk.

Her voice was suddenly hoarse, "Something's not right." House pulled himself out of his chair but couldn't get to the other side of the desk quick enough. Hadley's eyes rolled back and she hit the ground at his feet.

OOOOOOOO

"What happened to her?" A panicked Wilson stood outside Hadley's hospital room and ran a hand through his already disheveled hair.

"She's sick." House stared at the second of his fellows in as many months laid up in a hospital bed.

"Very helpful, thank you." Wilson looked relieved as Cuddy came around the corner. "Did you find out anything?"

Cuddy shook her head. "Nothing concrete. She's hypertensive, and she's gone into shock. Foreman thinks maybe a brain aneurism."

House shook his head. "No."

"No?" Cuddy and Wilson asked in unison. "You know what's wrong with her," Wilson stated more than asked.

House nodded. "I told you, she's sick."

Wilson shook his head. "If you know what's wrong with her House, you need to tell me."

"No, actually, I don't. She's got confidentiality. She's not your patient, she's not your employee, she's not your wife, or sister or anything to you except someone else you think you can save. Go back to your office, and I will talk to one of her actual doctors about her condition." House started to walk away but Cuddy put a hand to his arm.

"House?"

He shook his head slightly and leaned down to brush her ear with his lips. "Later."

Wilson narrowed his eyes at the exchange. "So that's it." House and Cuddy both turned back to Wilson. "Your new zeal to change, to be a better man, actually had nothing to do with me or with Amber, did it? It was Cuddy?"

House narrowed his eyes. Wilson's mockery of his good intentions stung his pride. His pride beat back his good intentions any day. "What a guy won't do for some great nookie, right?" Cuddy's hurt expression at the dig stung him more than Wilson's biting remarks and House lowered his eyes and took a breath. "It was about you," he said to Wilson, "and Cuddy. But everything I have done leading up to and since Amber died was all because of her, because I felt guilty over her death and because I know that she really loved you and it would have worked between you. And because I wanted to have the same thing."

Wilson's eyes softened but his fists were still clinched. House found himself leaning toward Cuddy who gripped his hand and squeezed gently. "Hadley has Huntington's disease. She did a genetic screening on herself and it came up positive. She's dying." House shook his head and turned away from them both. Wilson mumbled back House's confession, and began to refute it."

"No…"

"She's in early stages right now. She will begin to slowly loose control of her body functions, system failure, deteriorating brain function—"

"House, no."

"I'm sorry. I suspected a few months ago but I thought she would be able to work for a long time, she barely had any symptoms."

"You have to fix her." Wilson said, not even listening to the other side of the conversation.

"You can't fix Huntington's."

"That's not what it is. She wouldn't progress this fast, not without some other complications. What else could it be? Figure it out and help her." House could hear Wilson pleading not just for Thirteen's life, but for Amber's life and their friendship and everything else that had been lost, when Amber died.

"I don't know if I can." House whispered.

"You have to." Wilson took a step closer.

"No, I mean, _I can't._ I haven't been able to work since the accident. I…I think I'm damaged." Wilson drew back. He grappled with the weight of this hefty confession, but chose to ignore it.

"You have to," he repeated. "If you can't figure this out no one can."

In his mind, House ran through the myriad of possibilities. What else could it be? He glanced back and forth between Wilson and Cuddy. What else could it be? He hooked his arm with Wilson and pulled him around.

"With a positive genetic screen, she could still have Huntington's. Even if she's not dying from that right now, she could still get sick. Do you understand?"

Wilson nodded. "Just tell me you'll try."

House glanced over at Cuddy then back. "Okay," he said. "I'll try."

House turned to walk back to his office. He reached for the file from Cuddy as he passed her. "Do you need some help?" She asked.

House nodded and then shook his head. "I just need to think." He winked and then bent down to steal a kiss from her. "I'll come find you when she's all better."

**THE END…**

What did you think? Reviews?


End file.
